


The Birth of the Cheetahs

by Hinithun



Category: Atypical (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-01-26 02:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21366607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinithun/pseuds/Hinithun
Summary: "You're my new favourite person in the world"Casey and Izzie didn't know at the time what their own words really meant, but at the start of their junior year, they are about to find out.This is basically season 3 in Izzie point of view, plus some extra scene I came with.
Relationships: Casey Gardner/Izzie
Kudos: 52





	1. Nothing always goes as planned – Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Atypical story bases, some scene just came from my mind though. 
> 
> English is not my native language so, please, excuse my grammatical and spelling mistakes and the ponderousness of my work. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are preparing for landing. Please fasten your seat bell and make sure all your carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you.”

The flight from Florida to Connecticut is about to end as the airplane is approaching the runway. It has been rather peaceful: no turbulence, no baby crying. The flight has been enjoyable for its hundred and fifty-two passengers including me and my siblings. 

We spent a part of our summer break in Florida at our aunt and uncle's house. The couple started to invite us over three years ago so we could take a break from our self-destructive mother during the summer. Of course, I’m grateful I have some time of the year when I can act like a normal teenager and stop worrying about my family but I have always felt a bit out of place there. I don’t like how bossy my aunt could get sometimes. Maybe she’s only acting like any other parent but I’m not used to this kind of behavior. I've always been a mother to my siblings so ours could get high all day long. 

“Stop moving I can’t fasten your seat bell!” I order to my oldest sister. 

“But my ears hurt” she replies shaking her arms and legs like it would calm her pain.

“I know sweetie but we are almost home.”

I finally manage to fasten my sister's bell and check on my other siblings. Once I’m sure none of them is in danger, I lay my head on the seat and close my eyes. I want to enjoy the end of the flight before I have to meet my mother. I feel quite ambivalent about coming back; I liked Florida but it’s never the same as home even if I often feel like I’m a captive there. Well, I must suffer from Stockholm syndrome.

It is nothing easy for a 16-years-old like me to claim her luggage while watching her two oldest siblings and carrying the other one in her arms, but, I manage to lead my family to the airport hall anyway. My mother is supposed to pick us up but my aunt gave me some money so we can take a bus in case she never shows up. Shockingly she is here, standing among the crowd and smiling like the perfect mother she isn’t. 

“Mama!” My siblings call leaping on her for a hug.

“Hi, my love. How are you doing? How was the trip?”

I stand, set black. I don’t even bother to smile at the ridiculous scene. I admire how easily my siblings can forget our mother for all the pain she causes in our lives. I can’t do the same. I can’t even pretend. 

“Fine,” I answer. “The trip was fine.” Hearing my voice, my mother looks up at me and gave me a shy smile. Maybe she knows how bad her behavior hurts us. Maybe she is just too weak to hold herself together. 

“My ears hurt!” complained my 5-years-old sister. 

“She swam every day in Florida, so this and the flight are a lot for her ears to cash. She should be fine by tomorrow.” I explain to my mother even if I’m not sure she cares.

On the way home I decide I should drive, I’m not sure my mother can drive safely. Soon enough the car fills with children laughs and a sense of excitement to be home. Nevertheless, the cheerful atmosphere doesn’t reach me and I only gave a few single-syllable answers to my mother’s questions during the two hours’ drive. Most of them are about our family in Florida and how they are all doing. My uncle is my mother’s brother but she usually likes to bitch about him and his fancy house on the beach because she’s obviously jealous of his wealth. Well, she probably should blame it on herself: being an addict has never made you rich. 

When we finally reach the house, I rush to my room with my luggage. I’m glad to notice that none of my mother's abusive boyfriends is hanging out in the living room. I unpack my stuff in a hurry. And finally, I lie down in her bed. My mother seemed ok at the moment so she can take care of the kids for once. 

There is something about my room that I always find reassuring as if I’m safe and nobody can hurt me here. I haven’t to share it with any of my siblings, which is a real luxury in our house, so this room was the only place in the world that felt like mine. Closing my eyes and for a moment, I forget the rest of the world exists. I need a calm moment to take my life back, to be ready to deal with all the shits I will have to face this year. 

As I’m trying to forget everything a picture keeps running through my mind: the smiling face of a short hair brunette. Casey. Casey is my best friend, at least that’s how I would describe her. We haven’t talked much since I flew to Florida and this wasn’t normal: we usually text a lot every day. Obviously, we caught up on each other’s news once or twice but even then we only had a two or three texts’ conversation. It isn’t because we were busy all summer long. It just happened, or more precisely didn’t happen, as if we had both secretly decided not to text. 

However now that I’m back, I’m planning on catching up. Filled with determination, I grab my phone and scroll until I find the conversation I need: “Newton”. I open it and start to think about what to write. I bit nervously my lips as I can’t find a good way to start. Finally, after a few more minutes, I write: “I’m home!!! Run?” Well, it doesn’t sound right. I erase everything and write: “Hi, I just landed from Florida! Can I come over?” Definitively too stalkerish. I try again: “I’m back! Missed you. Want to hang out?” Too cheesy.

Already discouraged, I look at my ceiling and sighed. Why ain’t I able to find the right words to catch up on my best friend? This shouldn’t be so complicated. We haven’t seen each other for a while, and I miss her; there is nothing wrong about telling Casey the truth. Actually, the more I think about which words are right I start to think there isn’t any... Yeah... There are definitively no reasons to get too caught up. I sigh again and write: “I’m home!!! Run?” and hit the send button. 

Luckily I haven’ to wait long until I get an answer. I look at my phone screen and smile as she saw Casey’s text. Exited, I jump on her feet and search my running clothes I just put away on my wardrobe. In Florida, I ran every morning on the beach so I used my tracksuit a lot. 

Once ready I come in the living room heading toward the entrance door and I see the kids are playing on the tablet and the baby is in her playpen. Our mother is in the kitchen doing god-knows-what but she looks sober - or at least she doesn’t look high.

“I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” I tell her as I’m grabbing my keys. 

I know my mother can look after the kids when she isn’t completely high. At least, usually, she is. She’s the one who helps them get ready for school in the morning. She takes care of the baby too and drops her off at my grandma’s. Actually, her biggest flaw is she’s never home even if she only works part-time and when she is, she invites one of her abusive boyfriends over which is never good news. The rest of the time, she knows she can rely on me because it’s my big sister’s duty to take care of my siblings. But when she has no choice and she’s not high she watches them – or at least she makes sure nothing happens to them while I'm away.  
They are safe for now. They will be fine. 

Casey and I are used to meet halfway our respective houses, in the corner of a park. We found this spot two months ago, in springtime, as we were randomly running in the neighborhood. At first sight, his place already seemed perfect: there are a fresh fountain and a huge park with passable paths. Then, when we looked at the map and saw it was half our houses, we decided it should become our meeting spot.

Today, as usual, I arrive first. I’m used to waiting for Casey; she’s often late… anywhere. I run on the spot so I don’t have a stitch on the side when I leave. When Casey finally shows up, first I notice her tall and skinny silhouette form the distance. Suddenly my stomach starts to feel weird as if I had eaten bad food or I was stressed. The felling is just a little more enjoyable. I start to run in her direction and I feel my heart beats faster, most certainly due to the physical effort. 

The short hair brunette cuts her hair even shorter while I was in Florida so now they curl at the end. It looked great on her. It kind of gives her an angelical face. 

“Great hair, Newton,” I say between two sigh as I was reaching her.

“Thanks. Elsa cut it.”

“Seems she’s not that evil, after all. You look great.”

Casey takes the direction of the park as we are talking. We both enjoy running on the park paths to feel our feet bounce directly on the earth. “Oh no believe me: she is. She just used me as her experiment subject. And look she definitively cast a spell on it, now it’s all curly!”

“Vile Elsa and poor you!” I say laughing. 

For the next minutes, we chat and I notice we are slowing down. “Tired by your summer, Newton?” I rhetorically ask Casey as I speed up. 

“Not a little” She answers speeding up as well. 

We start a race on the park path without trying to reach our full potentials. Casey won; she has always been faster than me, but I don’t care. I’m glad she even gets a full scholarship in our fancy school for being the fastest local runner. When we stop the race, we have crossed the park and we are back on the pavement.

“It is so good to be back,” I say without waiting for any response. “I love my aunt and uncle and Florida is nice. But after a while, I don’t love them that much and Florida isn’t that nice.”

We both laugh. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you since forever,” Casey admits. 

“I know, since Slurpee night.” I remind us. My stomach starts to hurt again and breathing is more difficult as I remember the night we drove four towns away to find a 7/12 that served candy cotton favor Slurpees. Usually, I try not to think too much about that night because each time I do I felt like I can still feel the soft skin of Casey’s fingers intertwining mine and hear the sound of our breaths breaking the silence. When I remember this night it feels so out of time, like it has always been and never happens at the same time. 

But today I need to hear Casey telling me I haven’t completely made it out. 

“Yeah, since Slurpee night. That was fun.” She says. 

Fun? Fun was the first adjective that came out of her mind? I don’t think the night was fun. It was a lot of things but "fun" is not one of them. Fun cannot be one of them because in the car Casey told me once again how much she loves her boyfriend. 

“So fun,” I say anyway, feeling my stomach ache grows and spreads to all my organs. 

Fun is the kind of moment girlfriends share, drinking Slurpees and talking about their respective boyfriend on a sleepover. Fun is the kind of moment Casey and I usually share. 

“I’m so glad I have a friend like you. I haven’t had a best girlfriend since I was little. It’s nice.” As the words came out of my mouth I want to stop talking; to stop and to scream. I want to punch myself in the face, without completely understanding why. I’m not lying: having Casey around makes my life easier and she is my favorite person in the world, my best friend. And yet I cannot stop feeling as if a code red siren has begun to ring out in her heart, projecting the word “liar” all around me body. 

“Easy” I continue trying not to lose control.

“Yes, easy. Totally easy.” Casey repeats.

I cannot say what I was really hoping for broaching Slurpee Night but I’m sure what just happened was not what I expected. I feel wrong like all my organs hurt and I’m about to barf. I feel like the red siren cannot stop ringing inside my head. Like I’m losing her. However, there is no reason I feel this way: Casey and I didn’t fight – and we know our fights can get messy, we didn’t grow apart in a month without talking, none of us is moving away. And yet I’m terrified of losing her soon. 

I try not to worry. Casey is my best friend and it is not changing anytime soon. 

The conversation changes and my anxiety ease while running. By the time we reach Casey’s house only my stomach ache remains and I feel better. We stop just before the Gardeners’ porch. Usually, Casey asked me if I want a fresh drink and we hang out for a while on the porch. But this time, she doesn’t. 

“That was fun seeing you, we’ll hang out soon, like tomorrow?” Casey simply says. I might have said that my mother is watching my siblings and that I need to go home as soon as I can, therefore, Casey knew I would decline any drinks anyway; that's why she didn’t bother offering. 

“Ok, see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah, we’ll text.”

I stay a bit in the driveway once Casey comes home, thinking. This run was definitively strange, I didn't expect that. Well, actually, Casey seemed fine so it means I was the odd one. As I'm wondering what's went wrong my stomach ache reappears. This is probably the sign for me to stop torturing myself by thinking it out. Being reasonable, I decide it’s time to go home.

Once I come into my living room, I see that my siblings are fine and they are sitting at the exact same place they were before I left. I tousle my bother and sister’s hair affectionately. My brother grumbles because I’m distracting him for his video game. I don’t like it when they are standing so much time looking at screens at such a young age but I have to admit there are no easier things to entertain them. 

“Tablet time is over,” I said anyway, grabbing the screen from my brother’s hands. 

“I was almost done killing the zombies!” he complains. 

“Just as you are almost done unpacking your luggage, right?” I say ironically, knowing he didn’t as always. “Hurry up, I’ll make dinner. You should be done by the time it is ready.”

My brother went grumbling to his room he was sharing with our 5 years-old sisters who, for her part, is drawing on the dinner table. 

“How are your ears, by the way?” I ask her. “Are they as painful as in the airport?”

She shakes her head negatively. And I feel relieved knowing nobody will have to take her to the doctor tomorrow. I am about to make dinner when the baby starts crying form her playpen. She is certainly hungry. When she was born the doctors told us she could suffer from various disorders due to our mother’s drug consumption during her pregnancy. They said excessive cry could be one of the first symptoms. But for now, the baby seems just fine. 

This night I went to bed early, just about twenty minutes after my brother, and I fall asleep right away. Being at home always has one benefit: I tend to forget everything else to give all my time to my siblings.


	2. Chapter 2: Nothing always goes as planned – Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see.  
Well, being on lockdown at least gave in time to write so here's the second chapter.  
Stay safe stay at home everybody.
> 
> I still don't own anything from Atypical.  
Enjoy!

On our second day home, my siblings tell me they want the go to the local children’s club that their school friends are attending. It is free for families in need so I agree to drop them off at the club every day at 1:30 PM. I’m glad the neighborhood committee decided to organize activities for the local children; summer break is long and I don’t know if I would have been able to entertain a 5 and an 8 years-old until school starts again in fall.

Later this day I’m at my grandma’s as I decided to visit her with the baby. As soon as I tell her the news she insists I let her babysit my youngest sister.

“You’ll only be sweet 16 once in your life. You should make the most of it. Go out; meet your friends and your boyfriend – and be wise. I can take care of the baby. I know, I’m old and having the three kids is overwhelming sometimes, but I should be fine taking care of one baby.”

“But –” I start. 

“Stop worrying for me and go and see your friends.”

My grandma is as suborn as me – it may run on the family – so I know I can’t argue with her. Besides, I have to say I can enjoy some freedom. I get up from my chair to kiss my grandma on the cheek and to give a hug to my sister. 

“Be nice to Granny,” I order her. “I’ll come to pick her up at 5:30, that’s when the children’s club closes.” I give my grandma another kiss and say: “Thank you for everything you do for us.”

I collect my things and head for the front door. When I’m about to leave I can help to shout loud enough so my grandma can hear me:  
“By the way, Nate and I brook up a few months ago, so don’t worry about any boyfriend’s misbehavior.”

The following days, a routine settles: I take care of my siblings until 1:30 PM, then I drop them at the club or our grandma’s and finally I meet Casey. We mostly run and hung out all afternoon and I have to admit it is more enjoyable than looking after my siblings. Sometimes we speak about Clayton and it makes me feel I don’t miss school as much as I used to. One year ago I was longing for school to start, so I had a reason to escape my big sister’s duty and now I don’t care if summer break lasts a little bit longer.

Casey has turned my life shinier and every time I look at her I feel happy. That’s what a friend should feel, right? Anyway, I try not to remember the day I got back from Florida, because then my stomach ache reappears and I feel bad. I let this day drown in my memory where I’ll never have to remember it. 

On Sunday the children’s club is closed and my grandma has an appointment so she can’t look after the kids. I was not going to drop them off anyway. I decide to wake up early so I can do the chores before the kids wake up. My mother doesn’t bother doing them; doing the laundry, cleaning the house and cooking is not on the to-do list of a drug addict.

The only reason I haven’t left home yet is that my mother always manages to bring money to the household. She has a disability pension for her back problem since she got injured at work and she works part-time jobs every now and then. It isn’t a lot but enough to keep a roof on our heads and buy some clothes. Before going to Clayton I had to develop a unique sense of style to match my cheep clothes together. However I love fashion so, as soon as I was 14, I started to babysit the neighbors’ children while watching my siblings. I made my own money to buy better clothes. Besides Clayton brats haven’t done much comment on my style on Casual Fridays yet so I consider it a victory. 

I am hanging the washing when the baby starts to cry. I go in her room to take her out of her bed – we say room but it is a large walk-in closet that happens to have a window. There is just enough room for her bed and some toys –. I am putting her in her playpen in the living room when I notice my phone is on the dinner table. The kids must have played with it even if I already told them they are not allowed to do so. I unlock my phone to see which game they download this time, but I am surprised to see I have a new text message from Casey. Usually, she is not awake so soon, or at least she never texts before 10:00 AM. 

Newton: “So I was in the hospital last night to have my appendix remove. I’m fine now. They send me home because there was no complication. But the scar still hurt, I can’t sleep. I’m so bored! Please entertain me!” 

As soon as I finish reading the text I try calling her. She doesn’t answer so I sent her a text.

You: “Are you OK??? What happened???” 

I wait for her answer, looking at my phone screen. I’m genuinely worried about her; even if she told me she was fine because I know appendectomy complications can be dangerous. When I was in 5th grade, one of my classmates had to return to the hospital because of an infection. 

Finally, I get an answer from Casey:  
Newton: “Don’t worry I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, the appendix is useless anyway.”  
You: “Does it still hurt???”  
Newton: “A bit. I am mostly bored because I have to stay in my bed today…”

I definitively can’t leave the kids alone today; my mother is working all day – or maybe she is getting high somewhere and has already lost her job – and my grandma has an appointment. Besides, it is Sunday children’s club is closed. 

You: “I can’t visit for now. I have to watch the kids. How sounds 9:00 PM?”  
Newton: “Sounds late… but nice anyway.”

The rest of the day is long and boring of the 16-years-old teenager spending the afternoon in a playground. My siblings are having fun obviously, but I can’t wait for the day to end. Usually, I met other parents in the playground area and had a bit of a conversation with them. We live in a small neighborhood community so everyone knows the kids are my siblings and not my actual children, but yet there are two types of parents in the playground: the ones admiring how mature I am and the ones telling their kids to keep the distance as if I was the family drug-addict. Today, only the second type of parent seemed to be here. 

Around 8:30 PM I am by my grandma’s house with my siblings. When she opens the door the kids rush into the house. 

“Hello little monsters,” She says but they were already gone. She smiles at me and I feel a little guilty asking her to look after them so I can go to visit my best friend.

“Hi, I’m sorry I can’t watch them tonight.”

“Don’t worry, honey. You know I can help you anytime you want.”

I give her the baby in a hug. I was so lucky to have such a nice grandma. I don’t know what would have happened to us if she wasn’t here. I probably would have failed school and lose Clayton scholarship. Maybe, social services would have taken my siblings away.

As I promised Casey I was at her house at 9:00 PM. I knock on her door at 9:02 PM precisely. Her mom opens it. 

“Hello, Izzie! Did you come to see Casey? She has been longing all day to see you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Gardener, yes I did. She sent me a million texts to remind me how bored she was today.”

“Well patience is not one of her strength,” Elsa says jokingly letting me come inside the living room.

Casey’s house wasn’t the biggest one – especially if it is compared to Nate’s – but it feels cozy and reassuring. It is the kind of house filled with clumsy love but love anyway. I wish I felt the same at home. 

I climb the stairs and go to Casey’s room. She is reading a cooking magazine she probably borrowed from her mother. I’m not she does even cook, so she looks cute try to keep herself entertained by every means it is possible… I mean cut like a child or a puppy… Not cute, cute, obviously. 

“Knock, knock” I say knocking on her open door because she hasn’t noticed me yet. 

“Oh, thank God, I’m so bored.” She sighs closing her magazine. 

“You look pathetic,” I say without joking. Casey is not the kind of girl to stay a whole day in her bed. She has too much energy for that. I’m genuinely impressed she managed to lie still as the doctors recommended. She pouted sadly and she tries moving me. Well, it works. 

“I brought Twizzlers,” I say showing her the candy bag. 

“You brought me, your favorite candy?” She asks emphasizing the word "your". 

“You’re welcome. Scooch.”

She laughs and I feel truly happy hearing that sound. That’s what friends do, right? Make each other laugh and feel happy?

Casey moves to let me just enough place to sit. I slipped under her bedcovers just like it was mine. The space was still warm from her body heat.

“Your bed is so cozy and warm,” I say.

“It’s all the farting I’ve been doing.” She answers jokingly. 

“You’re so gross.”

She wasn’t but she definitively was the same old Casey. Her missing appendix hasn’t changed her. Farts or not, I feel really comfortable lying beside her; like it is where I belong. However, a well-known voice sounds in the room and all my body muscles tighten. “You didn’t know that?”

“Evan.” I try to say with enthusiasm even if I more surprised than pleased.

“Hey!” shout Casey. 

There is something I never quite understood about Casey and Evan’s couple. He is a nice guy, no one can take that away from him, but he seems too nice. He is the kind of guy who hasn’t any aim in life; the kind of guys who spends his whole life in the same place without even wondering if there is something other than what he always knew; the kind of boring guys. Casey, on the other hand, is smart and curious. She likes to run and she’s fun. She has a plan for her future and they are certainly not in Connecticut. Spending her life here will probably never make her feel truly happy; like she is destined for a greater purpose. 

“No more appendix?” Evan asks in a sigh as he walks into Casey’s room. 

“It’s all gone, I miss it” She answers pouting sadly again. 

“I’m sorry. Now that banana bread incident is starting to make a lot more sense.” He skirts Casey’s bed as he talks. I don’t know what the “banana bread incident” is and I feel uncomfortable because Casey usually tells me everything, even her fights with Evan. 

“You appendix hated banana bread.” He continues. 

Then he tilts above the bed to kiss Casey. My stomach hurts again as I feel very uncomfortable. I should not be here, just next to Casey. I feel like I should leave but at the same time, I really don’t want to. 

“I should probably go,” I say anyway. 

“No! Stay.” Casey shouts. 

These two words are sufficient to make me feel a little bit more comfortable. If Casey wants me here I belong here. 

“I need my loved ones around me. I don’t know how much time I have left.” Casey jokes. Evan chuckles and offers an ugly sheep toy to her. 

“I got you this.”

“A sheep?” Casey asked petting the toy. 

“Yeah, it’s a little weird, but there a story behind it –“

“Super weird.” I cut him off as I look closer to the sheep toy. I didn’t mean to interrupt him but I couldn’t help it.

“Oh my God, look at it, it’s angry” Casey laughs before imitating an angry sheep or at least trying to. 

“It is so angry” I agreed. “Get it away.”

I snatch the sheep form her and put it on the night table. I want to forget about that disturbing stuffed toy, so I ask: “Movie time?”

“Yep,” Casey says grabbing her laptop just before the turn her head towards Evan. “Get in!”

Evan sits the bed and I start to feel uncomfortable again. This time, however, I don’t suggest leaving the room because Casey said she wants me here; she needs me here. 

“Ok guys. What have we got?”

Finding a good movie that none of us has already seen and still pleased everybody is way more complicated than it seems. Evan is not into documentaries; I personally cannot stay awake in front of an action movie and Casey has already binge-watch a significant number of new movies during the afternoon. 

“This one seems ok,” says Evan pointing at a romantic comedy on Netflix catalog. “Beth told me she liked it.”

“Ok, let’s choose this one; otherwise I’ll be able to run and we’ll still be arguing about which movie to watch.” Casey decides. 

I am not a romantic comedy person either but I don’t argue. In my opinion, they are mostly ridiculous movies where everything is perfectly predictable; the first girl figured on the screen will end up with the first guy unless he was her gay best friend. But real life is more complicated than that, relationships are more complicated and the guy does not always get the girl at the end.  
I sit more comfortably and move closer to Casey so I can see the screen properly. As I change position, I feel her skin touching mine and my breath speeds up. I crane my head and it almost lay on Casey’s shoulder. We haven’t been so close since Slurpee night; this kind of intimacy almost feels weird. 

The movie was a real dud, so Casey and I have fun commenting on the poor storyline and the bad acting performances. 

“Are you always so talkative watching a movie?” Eva asks twenty minutes after the comedy starts. 

“I’m not” I answer. 

“She usually falls asleep past 9:00 PM.” Casey teases. 

“I do,” I admit. “But come on, bitching about this kind of movie is the funniest part of watching them!”

Evan doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t bother arguing. 

Necessarily I fall asleep, just after the scene where the girl realized the quarterback guy was not a huge douchebag after all but a sensitive male teenager. The screenplay was dumb: this kind of guys never change, like Nate, they’ll always be douchebags. 

I realize I've fallen asleep when I woke up in Casey’s empty bed. However, she has disappeared, only Evan is here sitting on the easy chair and lacing up his shoes. I really don’t feel like talking to him right now so I grab my phone instead, waiting for Casey to reappear. I don’t have any text from my grandma, which is good news. The kids are supposed to sleep at her place tonight and I will most likely drop by tomorrow morning to pick them up. 

As soon as he has his shoes on, Evan leaves the room. Fine. I won’t miss him. Then, just a few moments later, Casey finally comes out of the bathroom. She takes a look at the room and asks surprised:

“Where is Evan?”

Downstairs? Out already?

“I don’t know,” I answer. 

I have no time to say anything else Casey is already leaving the room closing the door behind her. Damn it. I wish I could hear what they are going to say… Well, I’m just curious… However, instead of spying on their conversation, I checked social media. I am not a huge fan, but I’m a teenager so I obviously have a Twitter and an Instagram account. 

I can definitively say that summer break is the worse period for checked them; my Instagram news feed is only made of fancy holiday pictures from my teammates and other Cayton rich kids. It looks like Penelope and Quinn are in Indonesia together. As I am scrolling I come across a photo picturing Nate. He is at his house and he seems to have a pool party. In the description, he wrote: “Friday 22. Back-to-school party at my place”. I remember when I used to go to his parties; I had fun but I always felt like I couldn’t be myself like I was two different persons living two different lives.

I’m still looking at Nate’s pictures when Casey comes back in her room. 

“Everything ok?” I ask genuinely concerned.

“Yeah. He just has to get home.”

I try to hide a nascent smile on my face. 

“Um, hey. I’m gonna sleep over at Evan’s next weekend. You think you can cover for me?” She asks all of a sudden. 

No.  
My brain freezes. I don’t know what to say. I know what I want to say but it feels wrong. What was going on with me? Why is it taking me long to answer this simple question? I should be able to decide; covering each other when one of them is at her boyfriend’s is what friends do. I’m supposed to agree. Yes, it is what I have to do. 

“Hmm, yeah. Yeah.” I repeat trying to be convincing. 

“Cool.”

Casey sits on her bed and an awkward silence sets in. 

“I saw Nate is throwing a back-to-school party,” I say trying to fill the silence. 

“You want to go?” Casey asks surprised.

“No, I don’t. He’s still a total douche. But I guess of the whole Clayton is going.”

Casey suddenly sits up and takes a dramatic posture. 

“Are you ready to hear their complaints? Oh my God, my summer was so lame. We took a boat to swim with dolphins but they didn’t want to come closer. Daddy was so pissed he refused to pay the boat guy.” Casey says imitating our schoolmates. 

“Can’t wait.” I laugh. 

“I went to India, and I could believe how dirty the streets were. Don’t they ever clean them?” Casey continues using another voice tone. 

“No one is spending their summer break in India.” I notice.

“That’s what it’s shocking to you? Dude, you already spend too much time with them. You got infected with their rich kid virus! ”Casey put her hand in front of her mouth and started breathing heavily. “You joined the dark side of the Force.” She says. 

“It’s not even a line!” 

Casey laughs and it’s the best sound I ever heard in my life. I certainly could live for that: hearing her laughter all day long. Her smile catches my eyes; I can’t help looking at her lips. I should probably look away before she notices because I couldn’t explain myself if she sees me. Casey is so overwhelming she can make me feel I’m in a rollercoaster: terribly jealous two minutes ago and extremely happy now. 

Wait, did I just say jealous?  
Fuck.


End file.
